


if this was a movie

by ohjustpeachy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tutoring, sarah rogers is a good bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21828718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohjustpeachy/pseuds/ohjustpeachy
Summary: “One of our seniors is being generous with his time this year—by force of his own actions, but generous none the less—and he’d be happy to help you, I’m sure. Tony Stark? I’ll set something up for later this week. I think between the two of you you’ll be able to pull your average up enough to make it through to playoffs,” Coulson said, with that ever-hopeful lilt in his voice.Or, Steve needs a calculus tutor, Tony is available, but how is Steve ever supposed to focus when he's been in love with Tony for ... his entire school life?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 21
Kudos: 407





	if this was a movie

Steve drags his feet across the carpeted living room floor; his mom is already home, on her second of three days off from the hospital before her next rotation. Normally, Steve loves these days when they’re both home after school, as embarrassing as some people his age might find that. He likes not coming home to an empty house, enjoys learning how to make whatever dish his mother is putting together for them that night while they listened to a podcast they like, or just talked about their days.

Today, though, well. Today, Steve had gotten his third failed calculus test back, and Mr. Coulson had pulled him aside after class, clucked his tongue, and asked Steve to get the test signed and brought back the next day. 

“One of our seniors is being generous with his time this year—by force of his own actions, but generous none the less—and he’d be happy to help you, I’m sure. Tony Stark? I’ll set something up for later this week. I think between the two of you you’ll be able to pull your average up enough to make it through to playoffs,” Coulson said, with that ever-hopeful lilt in his voice. 

_Playoffs._ The word would have been enough of a shock to his system had it not been said immediately after _Tony Stark._ Steve wanted to protest, promise to study harder on his own, ask for make up work, anything, but he knew it was a moot point. Calculus sucked, and he sucked at it, so if he wanted to stay on the football team, he needed the extra help, even if it meant getting it from Tony Stark. 

So Steve had nodded numbly and shoved the test into his crowded backpack, shame-faced, and headed for home.

“Hi, darling,” Sarah greets him now, looking up from the book she has propped open on the counter in front of her. A still-steaming mug of tea sits beside it, and Steve takes in the sight before him with a sigh. The only thing worse than giving up his afternoons to extra math help with Tony Stark is letting his mother down. 

“Hi,” Steve mutters, dropping his backpack onto a chair and rummaging through the fridge for the pitcher of iced tea he knows he’ll find there. He pours himself a full glass and downs it in a single gulp before he meets his mom’s eye. 

“Wow, should I even ask what’s wrong? Regular teen angst or worse?” Sarah says lightly, raising her eyebrows.

Steve heaves a sigh and shakes his head. It’s now or never, he decides before sighing a final time and yanking the offending calc test from his bag and sliding it across the table to his mother. “Worse,” he says. “I need you to sign this and confirm that you’ve seen my shame so I can give this back to Coulson tomorrow.”

“Mr. Coulson,” Sarah corrects automatically, still scanning the exam in front of her. “I thought you were feeling better about this class?” 

“I thought I was, but just when I thought I understood the last section, we moved on to this, and it turns out I never really got that last one, and now I need it for this. I hate math,” Steve groans. “And it gets worse.”

Sarah’s eyebrows meet her hairline at this. “Oh dear.”

“Yeah. He also suggested extra help. So now, on the days I don’t have practice, I have to spend my afternoon with one of the senior tutors.”

“Well, that might be just what you need!” Sarah is immediately enthused, and Steve shakes his head vehemently.

“No. No. Well, maybe, but this tutor is Tony Stark.”

“ _Oh_.” Sarah nods solemnly, but Steve can see the smile she’s doing her best to swallow down. 

“Mom,” he says. “Please don’t.”

“Stevie,” Sarah says, and Steve exhales, long and miserable.

“Can’t you just lecture me about trying harder in math?” He begs.

“I could, but you know I always thought that Tony Stark was such a nice kid,” she says, and yes, Steve did know. Steve has, in fact, heard this same speech several times over the years, ever since, in a haze of middle school vulnerability and confusion, he’d blurted out to his mother every detail of his massive, years-long crush on Tony Stark. Most sixth graders hate their parents, but then there was Steve Rogers, who told his mother _everything_. 

That would have been bad enough, really. What kid, at eleven years old, wanted their mom to know how badly he wants to dance with another boy at the back to school dance? _Steve_ , apparently. Steve, whose mother was chaperoning said dance, and who, with her son’s best interest at heart, had suggested to Tony Stark’s seventh grade face that they _dance together._

Steve can still see the flushed look of horror that washed over Tony’s face at the suggestion, can still picture him shaking his head a few times before booking it in the opposite direction. 

To this day that moment haunts him on those late nights in bed when sleep eludes him.

“Right, a _nice kid_ who didn’t want anything to do with me even when we were kids. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to find I’m still hanging around now,” Steve points out. 

“Oh, Steven. My sunshine boy. I still think he was just shy. It’s an awkward age, and I shouldn’t have been so forward, but the two of you looked so _sweet_ parked by the wall together like that, shuffling your feet…”

Steve feels a blush creep over his cheeks. “Fine, _I_ was shy. He had more friends than he knew what to do with, even then. If this was a movie, he’d be the shy smart one, and he’d have no friends, and probably be covered in acne, but _instead_ , he gets to be the smartest person in his grade _and_ the one with the most friends. There’s probably a line of girls hoping to take him to prom. Meanwhile, I’m captain of the football team, I’m failing calculus, and I still have no romantic prospects.” Steve isn’t sure where this impassioned little speech comes from, but it’s bubbling out of him before he has a chance to stop it. 

When he finishes, Sarah takes a careful sip of her tea to disguise another smile. 

“Well, it’s important for me to note here that this isn’t a movie. But, maybe you’ll have some prospects once tutoring starts,” she says meaningfully. At Steve’s groan, she tries again. “Okay, okay, lecture about paying more attention in class it is, then.” 

Steve settles in; _anything_ is better than listening to his mom sing the praise of the crush Steve never quite managed to overcome. 

*

“Wow.” 

It’s a week later, and Steve is once again sitting in his kitchen. This time, though, it’s with Tony Stark, his failed tests, and a smattering of notebooks, pencils, and textbooks spread between them. All Steve has to do it make it through these next few tutoring sessions, scrape up enough points on his average to stay on the football team, and then he can go back to never speaking to Tony Stark again, the way the lord intended.

“Wow, what?” Steve asks, already annoyed at the teasing note in Tony’s voice. 

“Wow, you _really_ failed,” Tony says with a smirk. 

“Obviously. Coulson wouldn’t have suggested this if I hadn’t. I’m bad at math, you’re great at math, you’re here to make me better at math, that’s how this works,” Steve says with a roll of his eyes.

“Ah, well, thank you, Steve, I didn’t know,” Tony replies with yet another smirk. Steve isn’t sure what’s worse, the look on Tony’s face, or the way he chooses just then to take a sip of water, chasing down a stray droplet with his tongue, running it over his lips. All the while, his brown eyes glint golden, gorgeous and smart and apparently put on this earth to personally torment Steven Grant Rogers. 

Steve forces himself to look away and swallow. 

“Let’s just get going, okay?” Steve frowns down at the test they’re going to work through, one of his earlier failures, and dreads the coming weeks. He’s going to have to keep his inhaler nearby if this keeps up, and he hasn’t needed that in years.

Tony, for his part, beams at him, like nothing would bring him more joy than to see Steve improve under his tutelage. 

“Sure, let’s get started. First things first: why are you doing math with a pen?” 

There’s that sparkle in his eyes again, teasing and playful, but Steve sighs, sure Tony is still making fun of him, and tosses his pen aside, grabbing one of the pencils Tony holds out. Somehow, this is shaping up to be even harder than he’d anticipated, between Tony’s all-knowing looks and the stress that comes with having Tony _here_ in his own space. 

Steve nods and wills himself to focus.

*

“It’s horrible,” Steve explains to Sarah later that night. “I have to sit there and look at him whizzing through these problems, pretend like the most embarrassing moment of my life didn’t happen between us, _and_ act like I’m not depending on him for my grade this semester.” 

“Has he brought it up? The dance, I mean?” Sarah adds, as if the situation needs any clarification. 

“No, _god_ , no. I’m sure he was glad to forget about it.” 

“Well, maybe he’s embarrassed too. Maybe he’s still shy!”

Steve rolls his eyes. “He’s not shy. He’s _mocking_. He’s a genius who can’t believe a peasant like myself can’t figure out calc 101.”

Sarah laughs at this. “Surely he doesn’t think you’re a _peasant_ , Stevie. I like to think we have a lovely home, well above the ranks of the feudal system.”

“ _Ha ha_ ,” Steve intones. “You’ll see,” he promises. “Next time we’re here and you’re home, you’ll see exactly what I mean.”

Ssarah just gives a noncommittal little hum before asking Steve to help set the table for dinner. 

*

A few days later, Steve’s biting the inside of his cheek in thought, determined to work through at least one problem before Tony has to interrupt again to ask if he was doing alright. 

As if doing alright was even a remote possibility under these conditions. 

“Doing—” Before Tony can finish, Steve holds up a hand to stop him. 

“I’m alright,” he says, shortly. He hates the way he sounds, ungrateful and rude, even to his own ears, and Tony lets the briefest flash of surprise dart across his face before nodding a few times. 

“Got it, got it. You know, I am here to help you, right? I literally have one job, and it’s to make sure the football team keeps its king. Its captain. One of those,” Tony says, like he can’t be bothered to know that Steve is the _captain_ of the football team, even though Tony’s own friends are on the team, too. James Rhodes is one of their best players, and Steve has seen Tony there in the stands. He’s screwing up the terms just to get a rise out of him, and Steve won’t give him the satisfaction. 

Instead, he fixes Tony with a look. “It’s captain. I know you know that. And yes, okay, I know you’re here to help. I’m sorry I’m cutting into your free time. I’m not exactly thrilled with this, either, but I’m sure you have better things to do. Plus, I know you don’t like me.” That last part slips out like the worst kind of word vomit, unforeseen and unstoppable. 

Steve’s face heats and Tony opens his mouth, surely about to make some kind of indignant comment, when the sound of a key in the lock interrupts them both, and Sarah comes bustling into the apartment, grocery bags clutched in her arms. 

“Oh, hello!” She says brightly, looking all too pleased to find them at her kitchen table, completely ignoring the growing tension between them. Steve tries his best to shoot her a warning look, a _please don’t say anything_ kind of look, but he can’t tell if she catches it. 

“Tony Stark, look at you, so grown up now,” she says, clearly missing the point of his frantic glances. 

“Hi, Mrs. Rogers, how’ve you been? Can I help you with those?” Tony asks, already standing up from the table and taking one of the heavier-looking bags from Sarah. He’s so confident at all times, Steve can only watch, slack-jawed.

“Wonderful, thank you. I stopped for some stuff for salad, and a loaf of bread… I’m making pasta, if you’re hungry, you’re welcome to stay for dinner, Tony,” Sarah invites. 

Steve’s stomach plummets. Suddenly it’s middle school all over again, Tony fleeing the gym at the thought of joining him in a dance in front of their friends. 

“No!” Steve interjects, too loud. “I mean, Tony’s parents are probably making dinner. Or he has plans. Besides, I’m sure he’s had enough of me after a few hours of these problems…” Steve babbles helplessly as Tony stares at him, his expression entirely unreadable. 

“Oh, Steve’s right,” Tony says finally. “It was great to see you, Mrs. Rogers, but I really should be getting home. Maybe another time,” he adds. 

Tony shoves his textbook and notes into his bag, Steve sitting uncomfortably beside him, homework still undone, and his mother’s gaze hot on the back of his head. 

“Well, bye,” Tony says to Steve, lifting a hasty hand. “Same time next week.”

He’s out the door before Steve can respond, and by then, Sarah’s already making her best disappointed face. 

“Well,” she says. “I don’t know what I walked into, but I’d say you were the one being mocking this time. You all but threw him out the door, Steve. I might be seeing things, but if I didn’t know better I’d say Tony looked hurt by that little outburst.”

_Hurt?_ Could that be the look Steve saw on Tony’s face before his mom walked in? No, that wasn’t possible. Tony couldn’t care less what the likes of Steve Rogers thought about him. The look was probably relief at being freed of any extra time in his company. 

“Well,” Steve huffs, staring at the problems swimming in front of him, confused as ever, “good thing we _do_ know better.” 

*

Steve gets a 75% on his next calc test. It’s better. It’s not failing, for one thing, but it’s not great, either. 

“You’ll need to keep improving from here, but it’s a good start,” Coulson tells him encouragingly when he passes the exams back. Steve has been studying with Tony for almost a full month by now, and he can tell Coulson wants some kind of reassurance that it was doing some good. 

“Thanks. Yeah, Tony’s, uh, a good teacher,” Steve says awkwardly. 

Coulson gives him two thumbs up, still smiling. “I knew he’d be good for you. Good for my class time management? Not so much. But you? Perfect.” 

Steve reaches around and rubs at his neck. He would hardly call the situation between them perfect, but he’d done twenty points better on this test than his last one, so he isn’t about to contradict him, either. Coulson’s voice echoes in his head as he makes his way to his next class, though.

_I knew he’d be good for you. Perfect._

_If only,_ Steve can’t help but think. 

“Seventy-five, not bad! You’re getting there!” Tony crows that afternoon when Steve shows him the results. He lets himself feel pleased at how proud Tony looks for a full minute before nodding, resolute. 

“Still a ways to go, but yeah. Um. Thanks.” 

“Um, you’re welcome,” Tony teases him. 

A stretch of uncertain silence follows, where Tony seems to gauge how Steve will react to this. The quiet grows uncomfortable all too quickly.

“Why do you have to tutor me? Or, not just me, but anyone?” Steve has to break the silence, and this feels like as good a time as any to ask the question he’s been wondering for weeks now. “Coulson always makes these weird comments about you being forced to help out, and about you being bad for his class…”

Tony flashes him a smile, so wide and true that Steve finds himself wishing he could bask in this moment, stop time, or rewind it, all the way back to that stupid moment at that dance and take it all back. All the anxiety and awkwardness and animosity that had sprouted up between them over the years. Maybe it would give them a chance to be _friends_ at the very least. 

“I like to keep Coulson on his toes.” Tony’s voice cuts into Steve’s thoughts, and he allows himself a smile. “I always have alternate ways of getting things done, and people like to see who can finish sample problems faster, Coulson or me. Spoiler, it’s usually me. Anyway, he says I waste so much of his class time that I have to either give some back or shut up. We both know I’m no good at keeping my mouth shut, so. Here I am,” Tony says with a shrug. 

“Here you are,” Steve repeats. Tony’s looking at him strangely again, and he almost regrets asking, feels his palms start to sweat as Tony keeps studying him. 

“And, just so you know, I _do_ like you,” Tony says suddenly.

“What?” Steve hates how incredulous he sounds, his voice so earnestly hopeful, but he can’t keep the shock from coursing through him.

“I just mean… Last week you said you know I don’t like you. I don’t know what gave you that idea—well, yes, maybe I do; I’m kind of an asshole sometimes, but I do. Like you, I mean. Just felt like I should clear that up.” 

As if on cue, Sarah’s key jiggles in the lock, breaking the spell. 

“Hi, Stevie, hi again, Tony,” she says in greeting. “Have you made my son into a math whiz like yourself yet?”

Tony looks at Steve again, then away, and Steve wipes his hands on the front of his jeans. “We’re working on it,” Tony says seriously. 

*

The next time Tony is supposed to come over to study, Steve is a bundle of nerves with his next test approaching. Coulson had stopped him after class to remind him, as if he’d ever forget. The test is this week, and playoffs are next. 

Which means he _needs_ to pass this one. 

“Tony still doing right by you?” 

Which… Why Coulson had to phrase things like this every single time is beyond Steve. It makes everything feel so… _romantic_ , almost, and it isn’t. At least, Steve doesn’t think it is. Things had been tense between them ever since Tony left last week, though. Why had he insisted he liked Steve like that? Tony didn’t have to lie to him, especially since he was hardly obligated to _like_ everyone he tutored… 

Then there’d been the awkward encounters in the hallway. For the last few days, Tony would stop at Steve’s locker, say hello, and then appear to freeze, growing uncomfortable and awkward in a way Steve wasn’t used to seeing. It was messing with him almost as much as the knowledge of his upcoming test. 

“God, you two really _are_ children,” Bucky says after another one of their locker encounters sends Tony hurtling down the hallway. 

Steve can’t even argue. “I don’t know what’s going on with him,” Steve admits. “All I know is I need to get through this test, and then I can worry about what’s happening with Tony Stark.”

“Whatever you say, Stevie,” Bucky laughs before heading to his own locker, leaving Steve to puzzle over Tony alone.

That evening, Steve isn’t surprised when his mom once again invites Tony to stay for dinner. What does surprise him, however, is how quickly the words ‘yeah, you should stay,’ slip from his mouth. 

Things had been smooth all afternoon, friendly, even, the two of them laughing over Tony’s quips rather than Steve analyzing every word he said. It’s nice, letting himself sit just an inch or two closer to Tony than usual, accepting help rather than resisting it. Something had changed between them, and Steve can’t pinpoint when it happened, or if his mom had been right, and Tony actually had been this nice all along. 

Dinner is nice, too. Sarah makes the lasagna she always makes to impress guests, which Tony wastes no time complimenting. Sarah is thrilled; Steve will be getting the _Tony is a nice kid_ speech for a long time after tonight, he’s sure.

“So,” Sarah says after they’ve cleared their plates, too full to move just yet. “It’s nice that you give up so much of your time to tutoring. I know Steve can’t be the only one who appreciates your help.” 

Tony pauses, fidgeting with his napkin. He looks, Steve realizes, like he does every time he runs away in the hallway at school. 

“Oh, well, actually… it is?” Tony replies.

Steve’s eyebrows come together. “It is… just me?” He asks in disbelief. 

“Uh, well. Technically? Yes,” Tony says, more to his empty plate than to Steve or Sarah, who scoots her chair back and shoots Steve a look. 

“Well, we certainly appreciate it. I haven’t had to sign a test in quite a while now,” Sarah says. “I’m sure tomorrow will be the same. But for now, I think I’ll go try and rummage up something for dessert, hm?” 

With that, Sarah disappears into the kitchen, leaving Steve and Tony alone at the table, quiet settling between them. 

“I thought… you did tutoring as a favor to Coulson? For talking too much in his class… your whole inside joke with him,” Steve says finally, his stomach clenching nervously.

“He never would’ve actually held me to it. But then he did mention that you might… need some help, and I don’t know, I said I would do it.”

Steve can’t help but think back to his analogy all those weeks ago. If this was a movie, it would be the scene where the love interest, the one who’s all bravado and ego and genius-level IQ, has his moment of vulnerability, an upbeat but overplayed pop song would soar in the back, and they would lock eyes right before…

He shakes his head. No, of course this isn’t a movie, he’s being ridiculous. Steve should ask Tony why he was helping him, figure this out once and for all, but Tony opens his mouth before he has a chance.

“Anyway, sorry I never mentioned that. And, um, good luck tomorrow, Steve. I know you’re gonna crush it,” Tony says quietly. “Thank your mom for dinner for me? And hey, don’t forget who taught you to stop doing math in pen.”

With a nervous smile and a goodnight called out to Sarah, Tony’s gone. 

_Again_. 

When Sarah reappears, Steve can only shrug. Maybe Tony really is, after all this, simply shy. Maybe Steve really was wrong about everything. 

His mother, god bless her, doesn’t say _I told you so._

*

Steve finishes his calculus test feeling more confident than he ever has during a math exam, and Coulson grades it right there, while the rest of the class streams out into the hallway, milling around and discussing answers. 

“I knew you could do it, Rogers!” Coulson says happily, holding the paper out to him. He’d gotten a few wrong, but the _A_ at the top of the paper was unmistakable. 

His heart thuds in his chest as a few things hit him hard and fast. _He passed! He got an A! He can stay on the team!_

And there’s only one person he wants to celebrate with. 

Steve doesn’t see Tony for the rest of the day. He thinks about texting him, but it wouldn’t be the same as seeing Tony’s face light up. He was thrilled when Steve got a C a few weeks ago; Steve wants the full reaction, so he keeps his phone in his pocket and his eyes open for his favorite curly-haired genius. 

But there are no staged locker run-ins, no chance meetings between classes. _Zero_ , for the rest of the week. Steve’s thrilled with his grade, of course, but he also feels like something is missing, like he’s lost something rather than gained it, and now there’s a Tony Stark-shaped hole in his day.

*

Steve doesn’t see Tony again until the following week, just before the playoff game. He’s finishing up at his locker, about to head down to the gym and change, meet the rest of the team, when Tony’s voice makes him stop, whirling around in the empty hallway. 

“Hey, _captain_ ,” he says. There’s no malice in it, only the same teasing tone Steve had come to know and love these past few months. 

“Ah, so you learned something in all this, too,” Steve replies. It’s easy enough, though he feels like his voice is audibly shaking. God, why is his this nervous _now?_ They’ve spent countless hours alone, but this just feels different, bigger, somehow. 

“I learned a few things, yeah,” Tony agrees.

Steve can’t keep the excitement contained for another minute. “I passed the test! I got an A! I haven’t gotten an A on a math test since probably fifth grade. I looked for you to tell you. To thank you, really. _Actually_ thank you, I mean,” Steve cringes as he thinks back to some of their initial conversations, how tense and weird they feel, looking back. 

“Coulson has me helping this sophomore kid now; I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I told you you’d kill it though, didn’t I!” Tony does look genuinely happy for him, but there’s something reserved in the way he’s standing, like there’s more he wants to say. 

“You did. I guess it’s about time you share your talents,” Steve says. 

Tony gives a little groan. “Turns out, you can’t exactly tell even your favorite teacher that you _only_ want to take him up on the whole tutoring thing if it’s for the guy you’ve been too nervous to talk to for five years.”

Steve’s pretty sure his jaw really and truly drops, because if he heard Tony right, then that means… 

Steve knows he’s been silent for too long because Tony is grimacing, and his face shouldn’t look like that, not when something so hugely _wonderful_ just happened. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have… You know me, can’t talk when I should, can’t shut up when I should, I need to be stopped.” 

“You… I thought… I mean. You hated me. You ran away, even when we were kids. You were always running away…”

“I never did. I tried to tell you. I _do_ like you. I always have. I had you right in front of me years ago, but what did I know back then? You were so…I don’t know, _sweet_ , even then. Steve Rogers and his boy next door blue eyes and blond hair and his lovely mom who wanted us to _dance_. I was just an awkward kid who was too smart for his own good. Still my problem, really. I had to use you _failing math_ to even…”

Just like that, though, Steve knows exactly how to quiet him. 

“Shh,” he murmurs softly before taking one careful step forward, wrapping one hand gently around Tony’s wrist and pulling him in, bringing their lips closer and closer together until he’s kissing Tony Stark. He’s _kissing Tony Stark_ , and Tony Stark is _kissing him back._

When they break apart, Steve’s grinning like it might just split his face in two. “I was an awkward kid, too. Promise me one thing, though?”

“Of course,” Tony says, and Steve realizes that he’s still holding his hand, and a little thrill runs through him. Finally.

“No more running away,” Steve says, giving Tony’s hand a little squeeze. 

“No more running away,” Tony repeats. “I’ll even stay for the game. Gotta see the football team king earn his crown.” 

“I take it back, _I’m_ going to run away this time,” Steve says, though he still hasn’t stopped smiling. He leans in and brings their lips together once more, just because, after all this time, he _can_. 

“Mm, you’re not going anywhere either,” Tony says, drawing him back in.

Steve nods, and he can’t help but think that if this was a movie, it finally had its happy ending.

(When the two of them come stumbling into the Rogers’ apartment much later that night, high on each other and the exhilaration of a big win and still holding hands, Sarah finally gets her _I told you so_ moment, too.)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm omg-just-peachy on tumblr, come say hi and/or scream about tony stark


End file.
